The Child Soldier By BETTY EJANG

The load on my head, The rashes on my skin, The soreness on my feet, The pangs of hunger inside, The despair of being alone.

Around me is a river of blood A mess of flesh, The dying groans of fellow children That my hands have hacked, The unshakable deep seated guilt inside me, Life is but an everlasting nightmare. I have no future to look forward to. The soldiers regard me as a spy. The rebels as a betrayer. My hope: this line between life and death, My ambition is but a moment's fantasy.

God! I have deprived the beasts of their residence, Saved and destroyed their food. Yet I'm more or less one of them. With no shoulder to cry on, And no laughter to share. Pain at sunrise, regrets at sunset, Dawn or dusk, Life is not fair.